


Dark Hearts

by redcandle17



Series: Darkness and Light [1]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Consent Issues, M/M, Power Imbalance, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-19 03:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10630989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/pseuds/redcandle17
Summary: The story of the Organic Mechanic and his favorite War Boys. Set before the movie.





	1. The Organic Mechanic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was conceived as backstory to my dark AU fic "Darkest Before Dawn". It's a prequel set before the events of the movie, though, so it isn't necessary to read that fic to follow this one.

He liked being called an organic mechanic. His father still tried to insist on being addressed as “Doctor”, but that was just another relic of the past the old man clung to. 

“Your sister would have been twenty-one years old today,” he said mournfully.

Junior rolled his eyes. The old man couldn’t even remember how to feed himself some days, but he thought he knew the exact birthdate of an infant who’d died thousands of days ago? 

“Eat,” he said impatiently, trying to spoon the grain-and-grub mash into his mouth.

His father turned his head aside. “My little baby girl. How could Laura do that?”

 _“She’s better off dead than suffering what this place would do to her,”_ his mother had said, when they’d found her standing over the lifeless infant. 

Immortan Joe had shredded her as an example to the other breeders and to anyone else who’d dare consider murdering a healthy baby. Healthy babies were a rare and precious commodity, and just wasting one like that was the most heinous crime possible to commit in the Citadel. 

“Dad, eat. You’re getting weak enough as it is.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Junior cursed. “There’s starving people below who’d sell their own mothers for a mouthful of food, old man.”

“My little boys died when they dropped the bomb on Sydney,” he said tearfully, like he’d been saying every day for dozens of days now. More and more, he reminisced about the family he’d had before the wars, before the world went to shit. 

“I’m going to have to get the tube and force-feed you,” Junior threatened. One of Joe’s wives had recently taken it into her stupid head to go on a hunger strike, and so he’d had to learn how to get food into somebody who refused to eat. 

His father didn’t seem to hear him. He was babbling on and on about his first set of children. His mind was going fast, and without it, he’d be just a useless mouth to feed. 

There was a pounding at the door, and then a War Boy opened it and stuck his head in. “We need an organic mechanic. Scavenging crew’s returned with a couple of Boys damaged.”

“Who’s that?” the old man demanded. “Looks like a punk. What’s he doing in our house?! Mikey, call the police!”

Junior gritted his teeth. He hated when the old man thought he was still living in the old world and he hated even more when he confused him for his dead sons. 

“I’ll be there in a moment,” he said to the War Boy. 

He reached under the bed and pulled out the set of shackles he’d started storing there. He chained his father’s wrist to the bed-frame.

“What are you doing? Help me! Somebody help me!”

“It’s for your own good, Dad,” he said. 

Junior had to stuff a War Boy’s guts back into him and sew him up after dousing everything with the alcohol they brewed mostly for this reason. The second War Boy only needed shrapnel removed from his torso and a few stitches. 

“Not a bad day’s work, eh?” he commented to the Pups who’d been assisting him. 

One of them caught his attention. He had the gangly look of an adolescent who’d just had his first growth spurt, but he had nice facial features and the most striking blue eyes Junior had ever seen. Definitely one to keep his eye on. 

“What do they call you, pup?” he asked. 

“Nux,” the Pup answered. 

“Good job today, Nux.” He dug into his pocket for a spare ration bar and tossed it to him. 

The other Pups glared jealously at Nux. Junior smirked. Jealousy was good. Jealousy lead to competition and competition was entertaining. 

“Thanks, Junior Organic,” Nux said. He bit into the bar, but then he broke piece off and gave it to another Pup. 

Nothing like Junior’s current favorite Boy. Junior hadn’t seen him in a couple of days. He could use a good fuck right now. “Hey, you guys tell Slit to come see me.”

“I’m a doctor,” his father pleaded, when he returned to their private room within what his father insisted on calling the infirmary but everyone else called the Blood Shed. “I can be useful.”

Must have been what he’d said when he joined up with Immortan Joe. He’d already been middle-aged when the world went to hell and he was no kind of warrior. Immortan Joe had kept him alive and safe and well-fed, and had even given him his own personal breeder. 

Junior unchained him. “Ready to eat now?”

The old man accepted a few spoonfuls of mash before claiming he was full. Junior helped him to drink a cup of water, then left him to rest or at least reminisce in silence.

He was eating his own dinner when the old man started begging for his wallet and accusing him of stealing it. Junior slammed his bowl down on the small table and rose from his chair to get the old man’s wallet from the cupboard. He tossed it at him. “Here.”

The worn leather wallet contained one thing only, a photograph of three young boys. Junior watched as his father stared at the photo and stroked it like a living thing. He did this every night. 

Was he jealous? Hell, yes, he was. The old man had named him Steven Williams after himself and called him junior, but there was no doubt in his mind that he loved him much less than he’d loved those long dead boys. He’d loved Junior’s short-lived sister more too. She’d been his only daughter ever, and he’d actually cried when they found her dead. 

Junior took the only photograph he owned out of his pocket. It showed a woman and a man, with two small children in their arms, standing on white sand in front of a blue background that was the ocean that once was. There was writing on the back that read _Martin family, 2015. Laura, Jamie, Jason, and Lisa at Turquoise Bay_. 

His mother’s family and his mother’s handwriting. Junior could see both the image and the words even when he closed his eyes, having long memorized every detail. The photo had been taken from off his mother’s body and his father had given it to him. He didn’t know why the old man thought he would want it, but he’d never asked.

He hated the photo, yet he’d never been able to trade it away. That was Laura’s real family, the one she’d loved. The old man did love him a little and he’d even loved Laura enough to cry when she was shredded, even though she’d killed his daughter. Laura, however, hadn’t loved Junior at all and she’d hated the old man. 

At least the old man had managed to survive. Laura’s ‘real’ husband had been too weak to survive. He’d been too weak to save himself, too weak to keep his children from being killed as useless mouths, and too weak to keep his woman from being taken away. 

Junior had almost brooded himself into a bad mood when Slit barged into the room without knocking first.

He was a rude, disrespectful bastard. Junior liked that about him. Though not as much as he liked those long limbs and broad shoulders and that amazing jawline. 

“How’s it been?” Slit asked. He glanced at the old man, who was crying silent tears over his long dead children. “He any better?”

“No,” Junior replied. “He’s never going to be. It’s all downhill now.”

“Oh,” Slit said, without any trace of sympathy. That was another thing Junior liked about him. He was smart enough not to waste sympathy on a man who’d been lucky enough to live in the world before and who’d been lucky enough to be one of the few privileged in this world. 

Junior watched as he picked up the old man’s leftover dinner and finished it off. He tapped a bottle of mother’s milk. “Yours if you want it,” he offered.

Nobody sane refused food. Slit grabbed the bottle, and tilted his head back to drain it in one long gulp. 

Junior admired the line of his throat. He stood and leaned across the table to sink his teeth into it. 

Slit grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. Junior had been surprised to realize he liked it the first time Slit had done that. The boy was rough and aggressive even for a War Boy, and he lacked the awe and deference towards his superiors that most Boys had. Junior liked being obeyed and served, but he’d discovered that he didn’t mind being defied by Slit. 

To a certain point, of course. 

He put a hand behind Slit’s head and pulled him closer to kiss him. 

“Junior, I have to go to the bathroom,” the old man called.

“Now he remembers who I am,” Junior muttered irritably. He reluctantly pulled away from Slit and went to open the door. He stuck his head out and shouted, “You there, come here.”

The passing War Boy didn’t like being ordered to take the old man to the latrines, but he did as he was told. 

Slit had taken off his trousers and boots and sprawled on Junior’s bed. Though ‘sprawled’ was too inelegant of a word for the way Slit was lying. ‘Posed’ was probably a better word. He looked like he expected to be observed and admired. 

Junior leered at him appreciatively. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he told him. He quickly undressed and joined Slit on the bed.

He didn’t usually let Boys make themselves too comfortable in his quarters - that only lead to awkwardness and bitterness on their part when he got tired of them. But Junior allowed Slit to stay for a while after they were done fucking. The boy turned cuddly after busting a nut, and Junior liked him enough to indulge him. 

Slit was just insatiable, though. He was as greedy for sex as he was for everything else. He’d only made the transition from War Pup to War Boy a hundred or so days ago, and he was still eagerly taking everything he could get now, whether it was given to him, or he had to seize it or steal it. 

A lot of Pups spent time as Repair Boys first, which allowed them to reach physical maturity before they were sent out of the Citadel to fight. But Slit had good genes and he’d reached his adult size early, though he’d probably continue packing on muscle. He was just a natural at war, too. A perfect War Boy. 

“Get out of here,” Junior told him finally, giving him an affectionate pat. “You’ve worn me out, I need sleep.”

He dreamt of blue as far as he could see and the feel of his mother combing her fingers through his hair, as she’d done once, when she’d forgotten for a brief moment that she didn’t love him.

Usually the old man woke first, and these days he woke Junior with the demands and complaints of an unhinged mind. But today Junior woke up first. He stood by the old man’s bed and stared at him. He looked weak and useless. He was. 

Junior had always known what he had to do, but he’d been putting off doing it. He supposed he’d inherited some of the old man’s sentimentality. He pulled the pillow out from under the old man’s head.

“Wha?” The old man woke up, looking confused. He glanced around in disorientation, seemingly not recognizing where he was. 

Junior put the pillow over his face and pressed down as hard as he could. The old man tried to claw at him, but superficial scratches were nothing. It didn’t take long before the old man stopped moving, but Junior held the pillow over his face a while longer just to make sure. 

When it was done, Junior picked up the wallet from beside the old man and took out the photograph. The lucky little bastards in it had wide grins, like life was so good for them. Guessed they didn’t know they were going to get incinerated alive. Junior tore the photo in half and then tore the halves. He tore it into tiny pieces and stuffed the pieces in his pocket, to throw in the latrine later.

He opened the door and yelled, “Hey, I need some muscle in here.”

One of the War Boys who was assigned to sleep in the Blood Shed and watch over the dying and the blood bags came, still wiping sleep from his eyes. But he woke up fast enough when he saw the old man lying dead.

“Take him to the compost,” the Organic Mechanic ordered. He tossed the empty old wallet at him. “You can have that. I’ve got no use for it.”


	2. Slit

While Slit put on back his pants and pulled on his boots, Organic took out that photograph thing and stared at it. He got the miserable look he always got when he stared at it. Slit didn’t know why he kept staring at it.

“I ever show you this?” he asked. 

“No,” Slit replied. He’d been one of Organic’s favorites for over a thousand days now, longer than any other Boy. He was just that shine. 

Organic passed the photograph to him. Slit stared at it. So that was what the ocean thing had looked like. Very chrome. The breeder’s teats were chrome too. Slit said so, and Organic scowled and snatched it back. 

“That’s my _mother_ ,” he said, as if Slit had insulted him. 

“Your mother had nice teats.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Slit was used to being called an asshole, but usually he knew why. He didn’t know what he’d done to make Organic call him an asshole. “What did I do?”

“You don’t talk about a guy’s mother like that.”

Slit didn’t have a mother and neither did anybody else he knew. How was he supposed to know? 

Organic didn’t talk to him for a couple of days, but then he forgot he was mad at Slit and invited him to eat with him.

For a while Organic just complained about how he’d had to spend the whole night and half of the day listening to one of the Immortan’s prize breeders scream, only for her to deliver a dead baby. 

“That was her second strike,” Organic concluded. “One more and she’s out.”

“Got stuck scrubbing decayed feral out of the vehicle we brought in today,” Slit complained. 

Organic grinned. “Sounds like we both had a rough day, buddy. I know just the thing to make it better. Hold on.”

He left his quarters and came back with a War Boy named Legion, one of his new favorites. Slit didn’t care that Organic had other favorite Boys because he knew that he was the most favorite. Organic got tired of the other favorites, usually in less than a couple hundred days, but he _liked_ Slit, not just liked fucking him. 

Legion didn’t look happy to see Slit already lying on Organic’s bed. “What’s he doing here?”

“The more, the merrier,” Organic said. He winked at Slit. “Fun time.”

Fun for them, not necessarily fun for Legion. Though maybe Legion might be less mediocre than he’d seemed so far and stop them. If he didn’t, though, well, he’d get what he deserved for being mediocre. 

They needed fresh blood bags and not many ferals had trespassed into the Citadel’s territory lately, so the Immortan sent a whole war party to raid a settlement over the mountains. Slit was gone for days and when he came back, he found that Organic had become obsessed with some mediocre Repair Boy named Nux. 

“Playing hard to get, that one,” Organic groused. 

Slit finished chewing the meaty portion of lizard tail Organic had shared with him. “You mean you haven’t even fucked him yet?” he asked incredulously. 

Organic shook his head. “Boy’s playing coy, acting like he doesn’t know what’s what. I’ve tried to make it very clear to him, but he keeps dancing away. The chase was fun at first, but I’m out of patience. I want him.”

Slit licked the lizard juices from his fingers. “So take him. I’ll hold him down for you.”

“You know that’s not how I like to do things.”

“You mean not to start with.”

Organic laughed. “Yeah.” 

Slit scooped up some green things from Organic’s dinner that it didn’t seem he was going to eat and stuffed them in his mouth. 

“I got an idea, though,” Organic said. “You willing to do me a favor?”

“‘Course,” Slit answered. He generally didn’t do favors for people, but Organic had done lots of nice things for him so he figured he owed him one. 

“Maybe he’ll be more receptive to your charms. Give him a try?”

“You want _me_ to fuck him?”

“Yeah. Once he’s your happy boy, you can convince him to let me do him.”

Slit had no interest in Repair Boys. They were too soft; they couldn’t take it rough and they couldn’t give it back either. But he’d already agreed to do Organic the favor. “What’s he work on?”

“The pursuit vehicles. He’s a black-thumb.”

Slit was one of the lancers on the Mack and the next time they brought in a salvaged vehicle, he stuck around as it was handed over to the Repair Boys. He easily identified Nux. Nux was taller even than him and his blue eyes were as chrome as Organic had said. He didn’t have any lumps on him yet, at least not that Slit could see with his pants on. His skin was still unblemished like a Pup, too, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Lots of space to work on if he’d let Slit. 

“You haven’t got any scars,” Slit said to him. “Mediocre. Want me to give you some?”

Nux looked at Slit’s scars. He seemed impressed by the ones on his stomach. “You do those yourself?”

“Yeah. Shine, right?”

Nux nodded. “Real shine.”

“I’m Slit.”

“Nux.”

“Want to fuck?” he asked bluntly. 

Nux looked him over again. “Yeah,” he said. “But I have to work on this vehicle now.”

“Come find me in the fighting pits tonight.”

Slit had already fought Mace and almost won when he spotted Nux that night. Mace was the lancer on Cranky Frank, the lead vehicle in the Immortan’s own convoy, a position Slit knew would be his one day. He was still revved up, so he pushed Nux against the wall immediately and kissed him. 

Nux kissed him back eagerly. But he pulled away when Slit bit his lip. 

“Ow. What’d you bite me for?”

“What’s the matter, Repair Boy? You too soft to take a War Boy?”

“No. I just wasn’t expecting it.” Nux’s expression changed, like he was ready to prove himself. He bit Slit’s lip hard. 

Slit tasted his own blood. He smiled. He squeezed Nux’s cock through his pants and kissed him again. 

He ended up jerking Nux off while he fucked him. Nux came first, and as soon as Slit had come inside him and pulled out, he started walking off. “Good fuck,” he said. “Want to do it again some time?”

Slit hauled him back against him and wrapped his arms around him. 

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping warm ‘til I’m ready to fuck you again.”

“I didn’t mean again tonight.”

“Why not?”

Nux shrugged. “Don’t really feel like it.”

“Well, I still need to keep warm,” Slit lied. 

Nux believed him. He turned around and put his arms around Slit. “Want to keep warm in my bunk?”

Slit wasn’t going to go to Repair Boy barracks. The place must stink of mediocre-ness. “Nah. Let’s go to my bunk.”

They fucked every night for the next dozen nights. Nux wasn’t mediocre like other Repair Boys. He was wasted among them. Slit tried to convince him to become a War Boy, but he liked working on vehicles, much more than he’d liked the war training they all did as pups.

“You got Nux yet?” Organic asked. 

Slit had stopped by the Blood Shed to see if Organic had any extra food to share with him. “Working on it.”

He meant to tell Nux that very night that he wanted to watch him fuck the Organic Mechanic, but Nux knelt and started sucking his cock before he could. Nux sucked cock well and he looked good doing it too. 

Slit touched those red lips of his after Nux had spat out his seed. “Your mouth looks like a breeder’s.” 

Nux scowled. “Does not.”

“Yeah, it does.”

Nux shot to his feet and stood straight, without his customary slouch. “Take that back.”

Slit stroked his lips again. “So soft, so red. So _pretty_.”

They were too close for a proper punch. There wasn’t enough leverage behind it when Nux cuffed him in the side of his head. Slit laughed. 

He drew his best blade for this kind of work. “You want to change that?”

Nux looked determined. “Yes,” he said. “Do it.”

He held still and hardly flinched while Slit cut his lips. Slit licked away the blood when he was done.

“There,” he said. “I’ll make a War Boy out of you.” He thought of the perfect argument in favor of it. “Don’t you want to drive those cars you build?”

Repair Boy black-thumbs built the Citadel’s vehicles and kept them running, but it was War Boy drivers who drove them on the road.

Slit sank to his knees and unbuckled Nux’s belt. He’d just taken his cock in his mouth when Nux spoke. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I do. I’ll do it, I’ll become a War Boy.”

Slit was assembling thundersticks the next day when Organic came looking for him. He looked irate. “A word, Slit.”

He followed Organic a little way away from the others. “What’s the matter?”

“Nux’s lips! You ruined his beautiful mouth before I got the chance to stick my cock in it. Damn it, Slit, didn’t you _think_?!”

“No,” Slit admitted. 

“You’d better make it up to me, buddy. I want him in my bed tonight.”

“You got any mother’s milk?”

“Get Nux in my bed and I’ll get you all the milk you can drink.”

Slit had tried to broach the subject of fucking Organic to Nux, but Nux wasn’t interested. True, Organic looked like rust, but he was the Organic Mechanic and he gave Boys lots of stuff if he liked them. He even interceded with the imperators when Slit got in trouble with them. 

If Nux refused to see the benefits of letting Organic fuck him, then Slit was going to have to trick him into it. 

“I did it,” Nux told him when they met up that night. “I talked to an imperator. I’m going to be a War Boy.”

Slit slapped him on the shoulder and then hugged him tight. “Shine! Maybe you’ll get assigned to the Mack too and we’ll get to do war together.”

When Nux tried to kiss him, Slit reluctantly pulled away. “Need a favor.”

“What?”

“I need a top-up.” It was a lie. A lump had started growing under his right ear, but he still felt as strong as ever and Organic had told him he didn’t have to worry about dying soft. “Want one from a high octane blood bag, but Organic won’t give it until I get him something in return.”

‘I thought you and he…”

“Yeah. But he wants _you_.”

“I don’t want him.”

Slit stroked the back of Nux’s head. “Do it for me? Just once?”

Nux’s shoulders slumped. “Okay,” he agreed. “Tomorrow.”

Organic had said tonight, and Slit didn’t want to give Nux a chance to change his mind. “Tonight.”

He took Nux to the Blood Shed, where Organic acted like a Pup who’d gotten his first real weapon. 

Slit ate a whole bowl of green things and red things while Organic touched and kissed Nux all over. He kept telling him how beautiful he was. Nux didn’t look like he was enjoying it, not even when Organic was sucking his cock, but Organic didn’t seem to notice. 

Nux’s cock went soft while Organic was fucking him and he had a very grim look on his face, like it was something terrible he was just enduring because he had to. Boys usually looked like that when they were getting stitched back up after major damage. Slit felt an unpleasant feeling he’d never felt before. 

Organic tried to hold onto Nux and touch him some more after he’d come, but Nux pulled away from him and put on back his pants. He left without a word. Slit snatched a bottle of mother’s milk from off the table and hurried after him. 

He wanted to ask if he was okay, but that was stupid. Organic had just fucked him, that’s all. Nothing terrible. 

He put an arm around Nux’s shoulders and Nux stopped. He wrapped his arms around Slit’s middle and put his head on Slit’s shoulder. His breathing sounded funny. Slit had a horrible suspicion that he was crying. 

Crying was the ultimate admission of weakness. War Boys didn’t cry. But Nux wasn’t a War Boy just yet, Slit reasoned, so it didn’t count. 

“You’re going to be a War Boy. You’re going to be a driver. You’re going to be so shine, Nux.”


End file.
